IS JACK KEMP MR. RIGHT?

Published: June 28, 1987

(Page 4 of 5)

''There's no common touch - his curiosity about people and emotional things is nonexistent,'' said one Republican consultant who has known Kemp for years. ''He doesn't make you comfortable. It's like the Peggy Lee song, 'Is that all there is?' You don't get the sense that there's anything coming back at you.''

IT IS UNDERSTANDABLE when Kemp says he believes with all his heart - ''with every toenail on his foot and all the enamel on his teeth,'' his daughter Jennifer teases - in the power of blue-sky optimism. His life has been spent reaching for the moon and the stars and - with an enormous amount of hard work -getting them.

From the time he was small, the third of four boys in a tightly knit, middle-class family in the Wilshire district of Los Angeles, Kemp saw himself as a successful gladiator.

When he went out to the basketball court his father had built for his four sons, Kemp would play every member of the U.C.L.A. Bruins, every member of the opposing team, and the sports announcer.

''He was an intense competitor with a great ability to visualize things,'' said his older brother, Tom. ''Any little game he played became a larger-than-life activity.''

Their father, when he wasn't working long hours building a motorcycle delivery service into a small trucking firm, lived for his sons' sporting events, giving uncritical and emotional approval.

Their mother, a well-educated social worker who spoke fluent Spanish, tried to engage Kemp's attention with visits to the Hollywood Bowl and piano lessons. But for the first two decades of his life he ''slept, ate and dreamed sports,'' even choosing the forward pass for a school essay on a famous invention.

A 17th-round draft choice from Occidental College in Los Angeles in 1957, Jack Kemp refused to lose heart even after he was cut by three National Football League teams. He was a member of the legendary 1958 New York Giants, with Charlie Conerly and Frank Gifford, but never got in for a single play. ''We all encouraged him to get on with his life, but he kept knocking around the N.F.L.,'' said Tom Kemp. ''And each time, the team would bring in a new, high-priced quarterback and Jack would be dropped before he got his chance.''

His parents drove from California to Alberta to see Jack try out for the Canadian League's Calgary Stampeders, and ended up driving him home when he didn't make the team. Unfazed, he began writing letters to dozens of coaches begging for a chance.

In 1960, he was signed by the Los Angeles - soon to become San Diego - Chargers and was an overnight star in the new American Football League. In 1962, he moved his wife and two small children to Buffalo, where he led the Bills to two A.F.L. championships.

Asked how the sudden celebrity changed his brother, Tom Kemp laughed. ''It didn't change him at all,'' he said. ''It was exactly what he expected all along.''

Kemp swept Joanne, his college sweetheart, and his own children along on his Persian carpet of positivism.

''Any time I'd say 'I can't do that,' if I was falling off my skateboard or something, he'd say 'Don't say can't,' '' recalls Jeff. ''I'd have scabs on my elbows and he'd be grilling it into me, making sure I didn't quit. He made me keep at it until I got a spiral on my football. It was the same with anything my sisters tried - riding a bike, piano lessons, homework.

''He never crossed the line into pushing us. But once we asked for his help, he didn't let us get discouraged.''

The kids often found ''JK grams'' stuck on their mirrors or pillows in the morning - notes of pride on some effort in school or sports or career or notes of persistence after a setback.

Jennifer, a teacher working in Spain, found one waiting when she returned from traveling with her father on his announcement swing.

''Dear Jen,'' read the handwriting, ''It was great to have you and your strong presence for these two weeks of hectic campaigning. You mean so much to me and what we're doing. I'm proud of you and hope you like the enclosed articles on teaching. Love you, Dad.''

It has long been Kemp's habit, when his children left for the evening, to send them off with a kiss and a single exhortation.

''Even now, when I visit home, Dad's last words are, 'Jennifer, be a leader,' '' his daughter said. ''That's an understood statement in our family. It means don't follow along with the crowd. Be who you were meant to be.''

Gingrich observed that Kemp ''has a silly, small-town, old-fashioned caring for his children, for his friends, for life if you will. He reminds me of Theodore Roosevelt, the sort of guy who jumps up as soon as it's daylight so he can go charging down the road to see the sky and the leaves. In a different era, you could hear Jack saying, 'Bully!' ''

His natural high spirits are enhanced by his religion. ''Dad leans toward the optimistic parts of Christianity,'' said Jeff Kemp, ''the ability to rise above the circumstances of life and the general view of our life as being in God's hands, so you're in your right place whether it seems bad or not.''